


we see the same stars

by rebelsquad (wolveheart)



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: 5 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, An Ode to the Night Sky, Friends to Lovers, M/M, except it's actually 11 things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 02:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10652826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolveheart/pseuds/rebelsquad
Summary: Eddie smiles. "I can't have my best friend not knowing the Big Dipper. That's embarrassing for both of us."(prompt fill for "things you said under the stars")





	we see the same stars

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: if you want to try love at home kids do so with caution; a bit #deep at times because apparently sometimes i am That Person; not beta-read, cause i am That Person also
> 
> thank u so much for the prompt, i love writing for other people and this gave me the chance to have a lot of feelings about andy and eddie and the stars for over a year (although this was written entirely during the past four weeks). also thank u to ben howard and angus and julia stone for providing the unofficial soundtrack for this
> 
> disclaimer: based entirely on show, no disrespect whatsoever intended.

i. HR 5062

 

 

The sun is nothing more than a glowing red line growing smaller and smaller on the horizon to Andy’s left. It’s just enough light to make out the rubbly path underneath his borrowed, rusty bicycle, enough to make out the deepest holes in it and swerve around them. Then again, he’s been using this path for the better part of two years. Andy could get to the Joneses in the pitch dark without so much as scraping a knee, he’s pretty sure. 

With a last turn right at the freshly painted mailbox, Andy’s speeding down the gravel path leading to his friend’s house. As usual, he brakes hard, jumps off the bike and leans it against the nearest wall. He takes a few seconds to catch his breath and unstick his shirt from his back. It’s getting towards the end of summer but you wouldn’t know it from the temperatures; it’s as hot and humid as it’s ever been. Andy, perhaps too optimistically, likes to think that he’s getting used to it.

The gravel crunches a little under his sandals as he’s making his way around the house to the porch. In all likelihood, the youngest Jones kids are already in bed and Andy doesn’t want to wake them up by ringing the doorbell. It’s such a nice summer night, someone surely will be spending it outside.

As expected, after he’s walked over the patch of dried grass, Andy’s standing in front of the elevated terrace and he can see Eddie’s mom braiding Eveline’s hair through the mosquito screen. It has always fascinated Andy that Eddie’s sister has the same hair color as her brother, but her hair seems much more familiar with the concept of a hairbrush.

“Hi Mrs. Jones, hi Eveline,” Andy says, raising his hand in greeting. 

Mrs. Jones looks up briefly to smile at him. Her daughter remains perfectly still. Braids are important business, Andy knows this from Vicky. The only time his sister will hold still is when someone is doing something with her hair.

“Hello Andrew, good to see you.” Her voice always reminds him of sweet honey and dark amber. “I bet you want to see Eddie right away instead of telling me all about your vacation.”

Well.

“I wouldn’t mind, Mrs. Jones,” he begins haltingly, while her hands go back to braiding.

“Oh no, it’s alright, sweetheart, don’t you worry. Your mother and I are going to Mrs. Lindsay’s birthday brunch next week, I’m sure she’ll give us all the details then.” She points at the door in the mosquito screen, and Eveline makes a distressed noise until her mother’s hand is back at her hair. “Just leave your bag here, you can pick it up when you boys come in.”

The smile in her voice is even brighter than before when she adds, “he’s in the treehouse. Please come inside before you fall asleep like you did last time, yes?”

“Yes, Mrs. Jones, we’ll try,” Andy says. He quickly opens the screen door, drops his bag, and closes it again.

All the while, Mrs. Jones clucks her tongue. “Oh, you better. It looks like it’s gonna be a cold night.”

Andy can’t hold back the laugh that escapes him, because the idea is ridiculous to him. “Cold? It never gets cold here.”

“Shush, darling,” Mrs. Jones replies mildly. “You think just ‘cause you’re from up north you’re immune to low temperatures. You got a lot to learn, my dear.”

“Yes, Mrs. Jones,” Andy says, relenting quickly. He knows better than to argue with adults who are, without a shadow of a doubt, wiser than him. “We’ll come inside soon,” he adds, hoping that it’s enough of a hint that he’d really like to see Eddie now. It’s been two weeks, during which he was in California with his family. He wants to see his best friend. It’s already bad enough that that they couldn’t spend the day together, even though they got permission for a sleepover as compensation, and those are always fun.

Luckily, Mrs. Jones has a gift for reading people. She laughs. “Yes, you’re excused, just go.”

Andy happily says his thanks and goodbye, see you later. When he starts walking, he hears Eveline asking why she isn’t allowed to stay up any longer and her mother answering that once she’s twelve years old, she may too. It makes Andy puff his chest out a little, because yeah, being twelve years old definitely has its perks.

Like staying up longer, but also like having your own treehouse.

He starts jogging once he’s out of earshot and only stops once he’s reached the apple tree in which a large plank of wood with smaller ones around its sides form the treehouse. In Andy’s opinion, it looks like a raft, but in a tree instead of on open water. Funnily enough, it also feels like that, when one is on the platform. Especially at night. As if the rest of the world just disappears and all you have left is the piece of wood you’re sitting on and the person next to you.

Despite the dark, Andy finds all the places for his hands and feet that Eddie has shown him. He manages to climb up to where Eddie is lying on his back, a blanket underneath his body to make the hard wood more comfortable. The moonlight is dim but it’s enough to draw the contours of Eddie’s face in soft lines against the darkness; the slope of his nose, his chin. His ears that, endearingly, refuse to lie flat against his head.

What Andy can’t make out is whether Eddie’s eyes are closed, and for a second he considers trying to spook Eddie because that’s usually hilarious, except-

“Heard you coming from miles away, no need try. You’re not scary, Andy.”

Andy heaves himself onto the platform. “Do I at least get bonus points for effort?”

He can’t see it but he’s sure Eddie’s raising an eyebrow at him when he asks, “What effort?”

“Maybe I should leave,” Andy says. “I really don’t feel appreciated.” He tries to draw out the last word a bit, make it melodious, like he’s heard Eddie’s mother do countless times when she teases Eddie’s dad.

A hand grabs his T-Shirt and pulls; there’s no place else to go except down, fitting himself into the space next to Eddie.

“Shut up, Andy.”

“That definitely is more welcoming,” Andy says, lightly, because he’s making himself comfortable and scooting closer to Eddie, where the blanket and body heat is. Threatening to leave is completely unbelieve by the time his shoulder and calf are pressed against Eddie’s.

Eddie nudges him but doesn’t tear his gaze away from the sky. It’s beautiful this night: free of clouds, the stars and moon bright flecks of silvery light.

“How was it at your aunt’s?” Eddie asks.

“Eh,” Andy shrugs, a bit awkwardly since he’s lying down. “Her hugs were too tight, her mashed potatoes too soggy, the time difference too weird. But the beach was nice. Lots of stars too.” This time it’s him who elbows Eddie lightly. “Is that what you’ve been up to? Just lying here, looking at the sky?”

“Well,” Eddie says, “what else was I s’posed to do without you?”

“Fair point.”

Andy bumps his foot lightly against Eddie’s, who gives as good as he gets. It’s a gentle back and forth, doesn’t escalate into kicking or a wrestling match. It’s reassuring contact, a ‘hey, I’m here’ and ‘hi, good to have you back.’

“Hey, you know any constellations?” Andy asks. They’re both still looking skyward, as if there was something exciting happening there, or a puzzle to solve, a hidden treasure to be found.

Eddie hums. “Just the real easy stuff. Belt of Orion,” he points upwards, not that this helps Andy in any way. Once he’s said so, Eddie clarifies, “It’s the three stars right by each other, that line over there. And, uh, they’re not really constellations themselves because they’re just parts of the bears, but... the Little Dipper and the Big Dipper,” he moves his finger, first to the left, then the right. Andy follows more the finger than he looks at the sky; Eddie is taller than him and his arms and fingers are long, matching the slender hand and bony wrist.

“See,” Eddie tries to explain, “they’re like rectangles with tails. The big one’s pretty easy to pick out.”

“For you, maybe.” Andy’s trying his best, but it appears that he doesn’t have a knack for connecting dots. “They all look so similar, only some are smaller, some brighter, and the distances are different.”

“If you wanted, you could just come up with your own constellations. It’s all about what you make of it,” Eddie says, turning his head so he’s looking at Andy. “Don’t worry, I’ll show them to you, if you really want to.”

“Yeah?” Andy turns his head too. It’s pretty amazing how bright Eddie’s eyes are, even in this darkness.

“Yeah,” Eddie confirms. He smiles. “I can’t have my best friend not knowing the Big Dipper. That’s embarrassing for both of us.”

Andy grins at him, then turns his head back towards the sky, silently vowing to give his best to be a good friend and student.

 

 

ii. HR 4660

 

 

The summer before they start high school, the Joneses invite the Haldanes for a barbeque.

They start just as the sun is setting, and everyone is still sitting outside on the porch when the moon and stars have relieved the sun of its duty.

It’s a little bit crowded, what with all the Jones siblings and the four Haldanes milling about, but Eddie’s never minded being surrounded by people. And he has no problem sharing the beanbag, dragged out of his brother’s room, with Andy.

Currently, though, Andy has abandoned him to get dessert from the kitchen. Eddie doesn’t begrudge him that, far be it from him to do so, but they’ve been sitting squished together in that beanbag chair and without Andy as counterweight, Eddie feels off-balance. It’s occurred to him that he could just sit in the middle of the bag, claim the entire thing for himself until Andy comes back, but just the thought is weird somehow. And how long can it take to get dessert anyway? Moving more than necessary seems like too much effort.

Eddie listens to the animated discussion Eveline and Andy’s sister are engaged in to distract himself. Victoria is apparently of the opinion that Cola is the best thing to drink whereas his own sister bravely defends the honor of sweet tea.

They’re in the process of agreeing to a compromise when Andy finally returns, carrying a bowl of banana pudding and a plate with two brownies.

“And here I was, wondering if I should call a rescue mission,” Eddie jokes.

“Funny,” Andy replies, but he’s grinning. “Are you going to make room for me or do I have to sit on your lap?”

Raising his eyebrows, Eddie gestures to the space on his left that literally has not changed since Andy got up ten minutes before. “Is this suddenly not enough space for your Highness? If not, the floor is right there.”

“You might want to be nicer,” Andy says mildly. He falls into the bag next to Eddie. The two forks clink and slide dangerously close to the edge of the brownie plate. “I might decide that I want to eat all of this myself and not let you have anything.”

“What? I didn’t tell you to get me anything.”

“I know,” Andy says patiently, “but who can resist your mother’s brownies? Not even you, I know you well enough.” He presses their knees together and puts the plate down, balancing it on both their legs. Then he digs into the pudding that he’s still holding in his other hand.

“I - thanks,” Eddie says, after another moment of wonder. But it’s not like he disagrees; if there are brownies better than his mom’s on this planet, he sure hasn’t come across them yet.

He picks up one of the forks. “This is quite a service. Didn’t even have to lift a finger.”

Andy swallows his spoonful of pudding, then grins at him. “That’s what friends are for.”

It’s a little silly, maybe. It’s just a brownie, on a family barbeque night, sitting on the porch under the sky. But Eddie finds himself grinning back, finds that he feels a little bit more grounded.

“I got really lucky to have you as a friend then.”

The brownie is, as expected, heavenly.

 

 

iii. HR 4554

 

 

Even though Andy by and large enjoys going to summer camp, he doesn’t fully understand the merit of going camping when you’re already at summer camp. It just seems like one kind of camping would be enough, is all.

Evidently not sharing his opinion, the camp counselors made them trade their wooden cabins for tents three miles away from what everyone affectionately calls ‘base camp.’ Naturally, they had to carry their tents, sleeping bags, and other supplies by themselves, through the woods and to the camping ground - ‘camping ground’ being a very generous description of what is essentially just a clearing in the forest.

It’s not so bad, though, all things considered. They are four people a tent, which is just shy of overcrowded. There’s a fireplace where they made s’mores earlier in the night, Eddie melting the marshmallows and Andy himself making sure they got enough crackers and chocolate (they had to compromise, since Eddie likes his marshmallows almost burned while Andy prefers his barely past the melting point).

The best thing is the lake. It’s about half the size of their high school football field, and the water is surprisingly clear and unsurprisingly warm. On the side where they set up the tents is a wooden jetty, about three feet wide and extending a few feet more into the water; on the other side, reeds and some large rocks line the lake shore.

In all of his fifteen years, Andy hasn’t slept outside like this more than twice. Therefore, the experience of four guys trying to settle into sleeping bags and be quiet enough to sleep while beyond the tent’s plastic walls the forest night life comes alive is still a novelty to him. The others - Eddie and two other boys by the names of Lewis and Richard - don’t seem fazed by rustling leaves, noises coming from other tents, crickets chirping and twigs snapping. One of his tent mates is snoring, the others are breathing evenly, so it should be safe to assume that they’re sleeping.

Except - there’s the sound of a sleeping bag being zipped open, and then a human shape comes into view that manages to very quietly open the tent and slip out.

Andy would recognize that shape even if the night were a hundred shades darker. 

“Eddie?” he hiss-whispers, despite knowing that Eddie’s probably out of ear-shot already.

The sleeping bag next to him moves. “Shu’ up,” comes grumbled from its depths. Lewis Nixon can be very charming, but not when his beauty sleep is on the line.

Beauty sleep, however, is not Andy’s primary concern right now. He’d much rather know why his friend is sneaking out into the middle of the night.

Andy’s own attempt at getting out of the tent is much less graceful. He almost loses his balance and only saves himself by stepping on someone’s foot, eliciting a disgruntled wordless protest. Fortunately, no one is seriously harmed and, at last, Andy is standing outside, barefoot on dry grass and fallen leaves, the wind gently caressing the skin exposed by his shorts and T-shirt.

Since there are no trees immediately around the campsite, the moonlight illuminates the clearing unhinderedly. It makes it easy for Andy to walk a few steps and spot Eddie sitting on the jetty, feet dangling in the water. It makes it easy for Andy to find his way over without tripping or stepping on something that could hurt his feet.

When he reaches the jetty, Eddie turns his head around, giving him a brief glance before looking back out over the lake. The calm water reflects the stars, a perfect mirror image of the night sky.

“Hey,” Andy says under his breath as he settles beside his friend. His feet touch the water with a soft splash. It’s still warm, pleasantly enveloping his feet up to his ankles. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Eddie shoots him another quick look. “I could ask you the same,” he replies, drily.

Following Eddie’s line of sight to the water, Andy hums. “That’s where you’re wrong. I am, in fact, sleeping. Nature’s night sounds cannot keep me awake. What you’re seeing is a hallucination of me.”

Eddie pinches him. Hard.

“Ouch, what was that for?” Exaggerating his hurt just slightly, Andy rubs his arm.

Apparently undisturbed by the pain he’s caused, Eddie chuckles. “You seem very real to me. A real smartass. Can’t fool me.”

Andy sticks his tongue out. Maybe Eddie will see it out of the corner of his eye. “Apparently not.”

A comfortable silence falls between them, the only sounds left being the crickets, the breeze and Andy’s feet moving in the water. He leans back on the wooden platform, supporting his weight with his arms. When he lies his head back he has a perfect view of the starry sky, bright, free of light pollution, stretching impossibly wide above them. It wouldn’t be so hard to lose oneself in this silent spectacle.

Just as he thinks the moment will freeze like this, leave them suspended in a kind of limbo state for the unforeseeable future, Eddie clears his throat.

“Do you,” he begins, hesitantly, “believe that... something can be written in the stars?”

Andy raises his head to look at Eddie, who doesn’t meet his eyes. “Like, destiny?”

Gaze fixed on the water, Eddie nods. “I guess, yeah.”

Andy considers this. He leans his head back again to look at the stars in question. Looking at them, it feels natural to just begin speaking, letting the words flow out.

“I think... I believe in purpose. Reason. There has to be a reason why we’re here, right? There has to be some sense to it, why else are the way they are. So there must also be a reason why the stars are where they are. It might have been the Greek who gave the constellations their names, but something must have arranged the stars like that in the first place. I like the thought that there’s a power that put the stars above and us down here in an order.” Andy smiles. ”I think that’s - comforting. Someone - or something - is keeping an eye on us and… is making sure we don’t stray too far from the right paths. That’s a bit like destiny, right?”

When there’s no response, he directs his gaze away from the sky, down to Eddie instead. Eddie, who’s already looking at him, motionless, as if he’s afraid to breathe, or blink.

“What?” Andy asks, sitting up.

Finally, Eddie takes in a shaky breath. There’s a faint smile on his lips, an even slighter shake of his head, as if he can’t quite believe something.

“Nothing. It’s nothing, really. I was just wondering.”

Andy searches his face for any hints of hidden meaning. “Is that what’s keeping you awake?” he asks gently. Sometimes he can’t read Eddie as perfectly as he wants to, expects to. Sometimes he’s not sure what’s going underneath those messy curls, and he’s fine with that. He just wants to make sure that he at least tries to understand.

“No, I’m just not tired enough to sleep yet,” Eddie replies, and it sounds sincere. Then his voice becomes uncertain again. “Would you mind stayin’ here for another while, though?”

“Not at all,” Andy says, smiling. He shifts his legs. He’d stay here the whole night, but might as well be comfortable while doing so.

 

 

iv. HR 4295

 

 

The reason for Eddie being at Lauren Hardy’s birthday party is the fact that she invited Andy and that made inviting Eddie a logical by-product. Essentially, they come as a package deal. People know this. Eddie knows this. It’s not like he’s unpopular; he has his group of friends and no one is actively hating him, as far as he knows.

But he is not Andrew Haldane, upcoming star of the football team, who people seem naturally drawn to. Andy doesn’t try to steal the spotlight from anyone, he doesn’t have to. It’s something about him, something intangible, that makes people come up to him, listen to him, turn their heads towards him.

Something that makes them invite Andy to their birthday party even though they share only one class and sit at opposite sides of the room.

Eddie has accepted this a long while ago, and he really doesn’t mind. Resenting anyone for their behavior would be nothing but hypocritical and he’s not that kind of person, he doesn’t think. And if it results in him receiving free invites to parties, then who is he to complain? Especially if the party isn’t all that bad.

Somewhere between twenty to thirty teenagers are lounging in various chairs and pillows on the paved patio, decorated with lights hanging from the wooden pergola overhead. They’re lucky that neither Lauren’s parents nor any neighbors are in the direct vicinity, although they’ve quieted down a bit by now, sitting in a circle and telling stories and laughing. For all intents and purposes it’s a subdued party. The fact that their cumulative alcohol consume has been limited to two cases of beer, thoughtfully provided for the birthday girl’s sweet sixteen by her older brother, is surely contributing to keeping the party relatively innocent.

To his own surprise, Eddie is genuinely enjoying himself. A classmate had picked Andy and him up so they had arrived together, but over the course of the evening they split up and talked to different people. Because yes, even though it’s not the same, Eddie does know other people than Andrew Haldane. Now they’re sitting opposite each other in the circle of teenagers that has formed itself on the patio, and occasionally their eyes meet, and that’s enough.

It’s fun, all in all.

Even more surprisingly, however, it continues to be enjoyable when someone presses a guitar into his hand and he’s asked to accompany everyone’s singing. He’s only briefly the center of attention, when they shout song titles at him and he has to pick, but when everyone’s too busy singing or looking up lyrics he resumes his place on the periphery of the action so it’s okay with him.

Might as well make himself useful, he figures, and laughs when someone suggests he play Wonderwall and there’s general enthusiastic agreement. Sometimes his life is a cliché but for as long as he and the people around him are happy, he has no objections.

He makes a couple mistakes but no one notices, he’s pretty sure. The noise of so many voices singing loudly _Because maybe, you’re gonna be the one that saves me_ easily drowns out a messed up Em7 chord or two.

After the first chorus he feels confident enough to look up from his fingers on the fretboard.

Andy’s already looking at him, bright and happy. Eddie can’t pick out the sound of his voice, but he watches Andy’s lips as he sings _I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now_ , gaze unwavering on Eddie.

Eddie is glad he doesn’t have to sing. He mangles the A7sus4 chord, but at least he’s spared the embarrassment of choking on the warm feeling rising in his chest that seems too large to be contained within his body.

 

 

v. HR 5054

 

 

The movie ends later than they expected it to.

It’s already dark outside when they leave the theater but the September sky overhead is clear and the air is still warm from the day’s sunshine, turning their walk back to the Haldane residence into a pleasant stroll.

They’re talking about the movie until they aren’t anymore, although Andy’s sure that it will come up again later, once they’ve had more time to process it. After all, Eddie’s staying overnight, there’ll be plenty more time to talk about it. Until then, he’s happy to walk the streets in amiable silence, Eddie’s hand warm in his, a perfect fit.

He’s glad they don’t live in a city with skyscrapers; the sky stretches above them, open and unobstructed. He tilts his head back to get a better view of the stars. It’s not too difficult to recognize the three bright dots of Orion’s belt, but the Big Dipper takes some more searching.

With great pride he finally finds the constellation, and he’s already opening his mouth and turning his head to Eddie because surely Eddie will be happy for him, for this great accomplishment, -

Before he can so much as utter a sound he trips over a bump in the ground. In the split second that it takes his body to give in to gravity and begin its descend downwards, he can already mentally picture his knees bruised and bleeding. His heart either increases its beat or stops altogether, he truly isn’t sure.

And then - one second he’s falling, the next he’s being pulled back forcefully and lands against Eddie’s bony chest. The collision knocks the breath out of his lungs, but at least he’s still standing, steady now, even, and once he can finally breathe again, he gets a good dose of Eddie’s shampoo and the scent of popcorn.

“Hi,” Eddie murmurs, mouth just inches from Andy’s nose. “Might wanna get your head out of the clouds, Haldane.” He follows up the words with a soft press of his lips to Andy’s forehead.

Andy wraps his arms around Eddie’s middle and decides to just hold on, silently, for a moment, while he takes another deep breath. There’s a feeling in his chest he can’t name yet. Seventeen seems too young to feel like there’s simultaneously something taking root within him and a soundless explosion under his sternum. A supernova in the making, but neither following a catastrophe nor signaling the end of something. It’s definitely not the end; they are, if anything, a beginning.

“I think you’re doing a good job of keeping me grounded,” he says against Eddie’s shoulder, eyes still closed.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, adjusting his grip so he can hug Andy properly. He might not have the muscle mass that comes with being a football player, but he’s still taller than Andy, and strong. “Seems like I got you. Someone has to.”

Andy bites his lip but in the end he can’t keep the words inside, finds that he wants them to be out in the open, hoping that they won’t stand between them but surround them.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

He can feel the movement of Eddie’s throat against his cheek when he swallows hard. Dry lips flutter against his temple, stay there for a moment, then come to rest close to Andy’s ear.

“Me too.”

 

 

vi. HR 617

 

 

The bus trip home is surprisingly quiet.

Most of their classmates are sleeping, talking quietly, or listening to music. It’s a stark contrast to the loud, energetic group of seventeen-year-olds that were making their teachers’ lives difficult during the day’s field trip. But a day of swimming in a lake and a stomach full of delicious barbeque food is sating both physically and emotionally.

In addition to that is the movement of the bus that’s making Eddie drowsy. They’re moving, in motion, and yet it feels as if time is standing still. As if they’re in some kind of limbo, a time loop, eternally trapped on this highway. Wouldn’t be so bad.

Eddie feels content just looking out the window. It’s too dark to really see anything outside, but that too is calming. The thick clouds that have been gathering are hiding the moon and the stars. If Eddie makes use of his memory and imagination, he can get a pretty good mental image of them.

“Careful,” Andy mumbles sleepily. He raises a hand to his left ear and presses the earphone back in.

“Sorry.” Eddie settles back, moves a little closer. They’re sharing Andy’s iPod, although Eddie doesn’t approve of all his music choices. It’s better than nothing though. He doesn’t want to overstretch the earphone cord and, with that, Andy’s generosity.

Not that Andy would care so much. He certainly doesn’t look awake enough to do so.

Eddie slides down a little in his seat, turns his head and leans his head against the seat’s back. It brings him on eyelevel with Andy, their faces turned towards each other with maybe a hand-length between the tips of their noses. Andy’s eyes are closed. Despite the darkness, Eddie can make out individual eyelashes.

“How much longer, d’you think?” Andy asks, in barely more than a slurred mumble. It draws Eddie’s eyes to Andy’s mouth, follow the movement of his lips. “‘Til we’re home, ‘mean.”

He smells of lake water and his hair is a mess, Eddie thinks, ridiculously. His lips look very soft, though, not chapped like usually. It distracts him for a moment, long enough for a silence that stretches just a little too long before he can reply.

“No idea,” Eddie whispers back. There’s nothing in his line of vision but Andy’s face, relaxed, peaceful. As if they were the only two people on this bus.

He adds, even quieter, “I hope it takes another while.”

 

 

vii. HR 424

 

 

Eddie’s leaning out of his opened window when Andy steps into his room, the light outside barely bright enough to cast more than a weak shadow on the floor. There is no moon this night, no visible one at least. Something about the darkness is acutely relatable.

Navigating Eddie’s low-lit room with practiced ease, Andy comes to stand beside him by the window. He mirrors Eddie’s position, his arms propped up on the windowsill, breathing in the crisp November air.

He presses his shoulder against Eddie’s, relishing the contact and maintaining it. “Hi.”

Eddie turns his head; when he speaks, a breath of air ghosts over Andy’s cheek. “Hey.” His smile is genuine, but there is still, undoubtedly, a darkness to his eyes, caused not by lack of light but circumstance. “You guys all packed, I assume?”

The resigned tone is a stark contrast to the disbelief - skirting the line to anger yet never quite crossing it - that had marked Eddie’s voice when Andy first told him his father’s job was transferred back to Massachusetts. And with his job his family. They had invested a lot of energy into coming up with a plan that would allow Andy to stay at the place he’s been confidently calling his home, would allow him to finish school here, with Eddie kissing him after they get their diplomas, scratchy robes still over their Sunday best.

The final verdict came in the form of empty moving boxes demanding to be filled. It’s a hard lesson to learn, the fact that not all battles can be won.

“Packed, yes.” He stretches his hand out, palm up, and without second thought Eddie lays his hand in his, laces their fingers together. “Packed but not ready to leave,” Andy admits, quiet.

Eddie squeezes his hand. “I know.”

Leaning his head on Eddie’s shoulder, Andy looks up at the sky. Unexpectedly, he welcomes the silence. They’ve said all their promises and reassurances, that this is just for a year and then they’ll be at college, together again, and in the meantime they’ll survive with emails, phone calls, texting, a visit or two. They’ll make do, which is neither an empty promise nor misplaced optimism. Andy’s conviction in that is unshakable.

Normally he looks at the constellations painted in the sky, a timeless work of art in the truest sense there is, and it makes him giddy and reverent to be one small part of something so unfathomably vast.

This night he just feels incredibly small.  

It’ll pass, he knows that too, but until then he’d like to pretend that they can stay like this forever, that there will be no goodbyes this night. For a while, at least, they can stay in this self-made cocoon, as they were in a snow globe, two small figures rooted to the spot in a bubble with star-shaped glitter made to swirl around them by an unseeable force.

“Just - don’t forget me, okay?” Eddie asks, probably attempting to make a joke out of it but his voice is too quiet, too sincere, so the joke falls flat.

Andy lifts his head from Eddie’s shoulder to take sight of the worried brows below untamed curls, the sharp jawline, cheekbone, nose, in profile against the sky. Then Eddie turns his face towards him, faith too fragile to cast out doubt.

Pulling Eddie close feels as necessary as breathing.

Eddie inhales against his neck, arms reaching around him and finding purchase in his shirt.

Something else to miss, Andy thinks, and presses a kiss to Eddie’s curls. “I couldn’t if I tried,” he says, holding as tightly on to that belief as he’s holding Eddie.

 

 

viii. HR 5191

 

 

“Andrew Allison Haldane, you stop eating that whipped cream right now or there’ll be no tart for you! I can’t even give you simplest tasks!”

Andy grins at his mom as he licks the last bit of cream off his finger. Despite the stress surrounding the Christmas festivities in their house - cooking, cleaning, making sure Uncle Alan doesn’t find the schnapps before they’re done eating dinner - Andy’s mother is an unflappable force of nature who never has to raise her voice in real anger.

Ordering Andy to make whipped cream for dessert had been a recipe for a disaster, set up to fail; all the Christmas cookies in the world cannot satisfy his sweet tooth, and he’s been trying. Boy, has he been trying. Perhaps his mother thinks she should have known better, maybe that’s part of why her scolding turns out so mild, relatively speaking.

In the end, however, the only thing that matters is that he’s now banned from the kitchen and has to help his sister set the table. At least that gives him the chance to inquire about the girl Victoria hasn’t shut up about since she received a Secret Santa gift from her. Even though Andy can’t help the small pang of jealousy whenever she talks about her, he’s mostly happy for his sister. It’s a relief to know that while the move made things more difficult for him, for her it seems to shape up to be a fortunate new beginning.

Just as he’s teased Vicky enough for a light blush to cover her cheeks as she hands him the next set of silverware, their dad walks into the dining room. With a warm smile on his face, he holds out the house phone to Andy. “For you.”

There’s only one person who would call him on Christmas.

“Eddie?”

“Hi,” comes the tinny response. A part of Andy fears that he’ll forget what Eddie’s voice really sound like, he’s becoming more and more used to the distorted version that he hears over the phone. Distorted or not, though, it always makes Andy smile, makes a warmth spread in his chest.

He throws his dad a questioning look when he says, “Hold on a second, let me escape the chaos and go outside.”

“Sure,” replies Eddie, at the same time as Andy’s dad says, “But don’t be late for dinner, it’s almost ready.”

With the reassurance that oh no, he wouldn’t want to miss out on his mom’s cooking ever, but especially not on this occasion, Andy excuses himself to the veranda, telephone in hand.

The frigid winter air won’t allow him stay outside too long anyway. It’s been snowing almost non-stop for the past three days so there’s a white blanket covering the garden, but not the veranda railing onto which Andy heaves himself, his back turned to the house. When he holds on to the post connecting the railing and the roof and leans forward just a bit, balancing precariously, he has a good view of the night sky that is, for once, just a black, star-dotted expanse. There are no more snow clouds, only clouds formed by his breath, and he exhales one against the north star, watches it as it rises and evaporates.

“Hello, anybody there?” comes Eddie’s voice out of the phone. “Earth to Andy Haldane?”

“Yes, yes, I’m here, the stars were distracting me,” Andy says apologetically, adjusting the phone in his grip.

“I didn’t know bright sparkly things could steal your attention that easily. If I had known, I’d’ve worn more jewelry.” Even across state lines and through a phone, Eddie’s dry sarcasm loses none of its efficacy.

Andy laughs. “There was no need for jewelry. You didn’t need to steal my attention, Eddie; you always had it.”

It doesn’t occur to him to _not_ say it. Out of all the things they’ve told each other over the years it seems almost ordinary. Doubt only creeps in when the other end of the line remains silent. At times like these, Andy wishes he was talking to Eddie in person. He’s learned to read Eddie’s body. It’s harder with the silences.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah,” comes the slightly muffled reply. And then, more clearly, “Sorry, just - missing you.” An intake of breath. “I miss you.”

Andy’s hold on the post tightens, even though it doesn’t come close to the momentary sensation of a hand wrapping around his heart and squeezing it in a death grip. He counts stars until he feels capable of speaking again.

“I miss you too.”

This isn’t how he wants their conversation to end, not with what seems at once a raw confession and, in the face of unchangeable circumstances, a meaningless platitude. It’s Christmas and they’re a thousand miles away from each other but he’s always believed in making the best of whatever life throws at him.

As so often, he finds his inspiration looking heavenward.

“Hey,” he says, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. “Can you see the Big Dipper?”

There’s a pause but only for a few seconds. “Yes,” Eddie replies, “bright and clear.”

“So do I,” Andy says, keeping his eyes firmly on those seven stars that are separated by light years yet appear to be so close. He imagines Eddie doing the same. “See,” Andy adds, and a smile comes more easily now, “we’re not that far apart.”

Once more there’s a brief silence over the line, and then a quiet, “Thank you.”

While the icy breeze raising goosebumps on his bare skin, familiar warmth blooms under Andy’s ribcage. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” responds Eddie in kind, audibly smiling too now, and that is exactly the sound Andy wants to keep close to his heart for the remainder of the night.   

 

 

ix. HR 4301

 

 

Due to some sort of administrative confusion, they don’t end up in the same room. They don’t even end up in the same dorm, but they are on the same campus, studying at the same college. A twenty-minute walk across campus is nothing compared to what they’ve been through the past months so they’re not really complaining, only making light-hearted jokes about the universe splitting them up because no one can handle their combined force.

It’s more than bearable, not least because of the small playground that is about equidistant from their respective dorms. Trees shelter the area from curious eyes, albeit that there isn’t much to see besides a slide attached to a simple wooden jungle gym, two seesaws, a large sandbox, and a set of swings.

There’s a sign permitting only children under the age of sixteen to play there, but after sunset, when Andy and Eddie meet up there after a day of classes and homework, the grounds are abandoned and neither of them feels compelled to follow the rule. Not while it’s still warm enough to spend the evening outside sitting on the swings.

(The first time they meet up there, Andy tries to swing as high as he can. A frightening creak of the crossbeam overhead puts a stop to that. Since then, they content themselves with just sitting on the swings, or swinging no more than a couple feet high. It’s far less frightening and, importantly, still fun.)

Feeling brave, Eddie has kicked off his shoes. He digs his toes into the sand to move his swing gently back and forth and the sand is cold but not unpleasantly so, not colder than the swing’s metal chain against his callused palms. It doesn’t take too much effort to swing freely, all he has to do is cross his ankles and keep his feet off the ground. When that gets exhausting after a while, he lets the swing come to a natural halt and holds on to the chain a little tighter so he can twist his upper body around towards Andy without losing his balance.

Andy has been humming, either off-key or a song Eddie doesn’t recognize, ever since settling on the swings. The sound seamlessly blends in with the rest of the night’s sound, the occasional voice, footsteps, car, crickets. Together with his relaxed posture, it makes Andy appear completely lost in thought, and it’s a nice sight to behold, the way his head is bent backwards slightly as he’s swaying back and forth. It holds Eddie captive enough that he forgets to keep himself in motion.

He doesn’t even realize it until Andy’s face suddenly lights up and he comes to an abrupt halt.

“Did you see that?”

“What?” Eddie rights himself, feeling like he’s just gotten whiplashed by Andy’s sudden transition from peaceful to excited.

“The shooting star,” Andy explains eagerly. When he turns to look at Eddie his smile falters. “You didn’t see it, did you?”

“Ah, no,” Eddie admits. “But that’s alright. I’ve seen quite a lot of shooting stars in my life and I’m sure there’ll be more.” That doesn’t seem to cheer Andy up that much, so Eddie nudges him and asks, “What did you wish for? Better cafeteria food?”

“Maybe that’s what I should’ve done, but no.” Andy pushes against his shoulder, causing their swings to move from side to side for a beat or two. It forces Eddie to grip the chains even tighter, with both hands now. He’s never been on a boat but this is what he imagines weathering the stormy sea to be like.

While he’s trying to stay upright, Andy has jumped off his swing and is moving towards Eddie. He waits until Eddie’s swing has calmed, then comes close enough to step between Eddie’s feet and reach out to close his hands around the chains on both sides near Eddie’s shoulders.

Eddie can’t help himself. His eyes find Andy’s on their own volition. There are stories his grandfather told him, of wanderers finding the North Star in the sky and knowing they’re not lost. Some feelings aren’t bound by time or space or occasion; Eddie believes this is one of them.

There’s a moment where they don’t do more than look at each other, just inches apart.

“I don’t need to wish for anything now that I finally got you back,” Andy says quietly.

He leans forward and without thinking about it Eddie tilts his head to meet Andy halfway. It’s not much more than a simple press of lips. Andy’s right hand finds its way to Eddie’s cheek, tracing the cheekbone with his thumb. Eddie wraps his arm around Andy’s waist, the skin warm even through the fabric of his shirt. They can’t go beyond that in a public place and without Eddie losing his balance but he doesn’t really mind. He still has a hard time believing that they get to do this again, kissing, touching, feeling, with no screens or phone lines between them. It’s too familiar to feel like the first time but it still sends sparks down his spine.

They part eventually, in their own time, but Andy doesn’t step away and Eddie only unwraps his arm to take Andy’s hand, interlocking their fingers.

“And they say romance is dead,” he quips, tapping his fingers lightly against the back of Andy’s hand.

Andy laughs, quiet but as bright as the cloudless star-filled sky. “Tell you what,” he finds Eddie’s gaze, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I was so excited to see a shooting star I actually forgot to make a wish.”

Eddie feigns indignation with a scandalized intake of breath. “Wow. Killed it right there, Haldane. Guess it was nice while it lasted.” He plants his feet more firmly on the ground to push himself away from Andy, even though he doesn’t let go of Andy’s hand. It’s not like Eddie can go very far, not that he wants to.

It’s a moot point anyway because Andy simply follows him. His grin has become softer, and so has his voice when he says, “It doesn’t make what I said any less true. There’s no reason to want for anything. I’m pretty happy right now.”

They’re not quite eye-to-eye but Eddie doesn’t have to tilt his head up as far as before when he pulls Andy closer to kiss him again in agreement.

 

 

x. HR 4905

 

 

When he agreed to go to a convention about improving the use of modern technology in teaching, Andy expected to be set up in a low-cost motel-like accommodation. It’s his first convention, after all, and when he’d received the invitation his enthusiasm might have gotten the better of him; considerations about practical details like where he’d spend the night were secondary.

Thinking of himself as a teacher, even though the ink on his diploma has long dried, still seems surreal on some days. He’s been teaching for long enough that he’s caught himself referring to his class as ‘his kids’ and gotten a bit of good-natured grief from Eddie, but he’s still new to this and it shows. He’s glad he’s not afraid or ashamed to ask more experienced colleagues for advice since that continues to happen frequently. Likewise do amused smiles about the unfading energy with which he tackles his profession appear recurrently on his older colleagues’ faces. Andy hopes the latter will stay that way for a long time.

Dragging his small suitcase over the threshold of his almost luxurious hotel room, he doesn’t feel quite that energetic. Flying is always exhausting, especially when a crying infant renders any plans of catching an hour of shut-eye an implausible dream. Now that the clock is steadfastly approaching one in the morning and Andy’s been up for the past twenty hours, he’s rightfully exhausted. It’s nothing that a good night’s sleep won’t fix, though, and the Queen size bed promises just that.

Despite being tired enough to sleep for three days, Andy ignores the soft sheets’ call for another few minutes in favor of walking to the large window on the other side of the room. Eddie and he had agreed that he should call once he’s arrived at his hotel and Andy wants to do just that while airing the room out for the night.

When he checks his phone, it notifies him of a missed call and a voicemail, both from Eddie. Andy opens the window so he can lean outside and breathe in the night air. It’s not exactly fresh, or quiet for that matter, since the hotel is too close to the city and its busy streets. It’s not a view or sounds he’s used to. Only the light that makes the inconspicuous golden band around his ring finger gleam is almost the same, the difference being that it’s artificial light instead of the moon’s.

He keeps inspecting the ring, feels himself smile involuntarily as he turns his hand this way and that way to see the light reflect at different angles. With the other hand he holds his phone to his ear so he can listen to the voicemail.

 _“Hey, it’s me,”_ comes Eddie’s voice through the speaker. Andy allows himself a moment to be glad about how much better phone technology has become; it’s still not the same as speaking in person but definitely not comparable with how bad it had been a few years ago.

 _“So,”_ there’s the sound of a window closing before Eddie continues, _“I know we said we’d talk but it looks like your flight got delayed and I’m dead tired. Kind of embarrassing, it’s only midnight. Guess I’m not as young as I used to be.”_ By that definition, Eddie has never been particularly young, Andy thinks with a grin. Out of the two of them, Eddie has always been a morning bird and that usually comes with going to sleep early. It’s a pattern Andy’s come to live with.

 _“I hope you land safely. Sorry for bailing on you. Maybe pick an earlier flight next time, huh? Not that it’s your fault night flights are cheaper.”_ There’s a pause but Andy is happy to wait. A tired Eddie either rambles or stays very quiet, and Andy’s come to love both. He’ll take Eddie’s words and Eddie’s silences with equal adoration for as long as he can.

When he speaks again, Eddie’s voice is softer than before. _“I can see the Big Dipper, Andy. Don’t know if you can, since you’re in the city and all. Maybe there’s clouds. But I can.”_

It’s a correct assumption; Andy can’t see the Big Dipper, he can’t see any stars at all. But if he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s with Eddie in their small apartment, standing by the bedroom window from where the constellation is visible this time of the year.

 _“Miss you,”_ Eddie interrupts his own silence. The phone picks up his sincerity breathtakingly well _. “Hope you have a good time, I know this means a lot to you.”_ He yawns, then chuckles self-deprecatingly, making Andy smile against his phone. _“Alright, that’s it for me. Let me know know how it goes. Love you. Goodnight.”_

The message ends with a soft click.

Andy decides to text a response while he’s still by the window, even though it’s starting to be uncomfortably cold. The night air is raising goosebumps on his skin but it’ll be okay for another minute or so.

 _Flight went okay, can’t complain about the hotel room,_ he types. _Bed’s going to be empty w/out you but at least I have the covers all to myself._ He hits ‘send’ and doesn’t think twice about sending another message before putting his phone aside and getting ready for the night.

_You see the stars well enough for both of us._

 

 

xi. HR 3982

 

 

  
They send Sledge and Shelton on their way once the sun begins to set; with a two-hour drive to get home and both having work in the morning, everyone agrees that them leaving before Burgin is okay (the parties in question excluded). Eddie can’t quite believe they made the trip in the first place, though neither can he deny that their help was incredibly welcome. His own truck can fit only so many boxes.

Eventually, once everything is at least close to where it should be in their house, Eddie shoos an enthusiastic Burgin to the door. At this late hour and with the prospect of having their new home to themselves, Eddie doesn’t really feel like spending any more time with guests or unpacking.

Unlike Andy, who’s completely engrossed in setting up their patio furniture consisting of a wooden table and two matching, reclining armchairs. Judging by Andy’s intense focus, it’s a very complicated process. Since he’s too preoccupied by manual instructions, screws and furniture parts, Eddie leaves him to it and takes it upon himself to escort Burgin out the front door and to his car. One of them has to display proper manners and rightful gratitude.

Luckily Burgin doesn’t seem affronted by Andy’s current disregard of etiquette. It’s been an exhausting day but he’s still cheerful, talking animatedly about his plans to renovate the Burgin residence kitchen.

Eddie listens patiently, nodding in all the right places and commenting with encouraging smiles. He tightens his flannel around his shoulders to ward off the chilly night air while Burgin climbs into his car.

“Text when you get home,” Eddie reminds through the rolled down window of Burgin’s pickup.

Burgin manages to roll his eyes while fastening his seat belt. “Yes, I will text when I get home. And yes, as I’ve already promised your other half, I will tell Florence that you loved her Pecan Pie Bars, and that you’re not mad she couldn’t make it.” Despite his words, he looks more amused than genuinely annoyed.

Eddie brushes his lack of seriousness aside by being as sincere as he knows how. “We really appreciate everything you guys do for us.”

Burgin smiles. “Least we can do. The feeling’s mutual. I just hoped you’d come around and accept the fact that we’re not the same stupid college boys as back then. Me, Florence, and Sledge and Snaf, we can take pretty good care of ourselves. You don’t have to worry about us so much anymore.”

Eddie shrugs, lips twitching. It’s not like he can’t see how much these kids have grown since he had been their RA and Andy their football captain on top of that. He’d liked the brash yet sometimes insecure, sometimes homesick freshmen who used his bed as a therapist’s couch and ate his secret stash of Hershey kisses.

That seems like ages ago, now that they carry themselves with more confidence. But Eddie has had the fortune of being a part of their lives for that entire time. He’s been with them every step of the way, some times more prominent than at others; he knows what they’ve been through, is proud of where they are and where they might go, but he can’t always push aside the memories of where they started.

“Some habits die hard,” he finally says.

Burgin laughs. “Guess so.” He throws a look of approval past Eddie’s shoulder at the house into which he helped carry moving boxes and furniture all day. “Enjoy your new quarters. Take advantage of not having any close neighbors, will you?” He winks.

Eddie gifts him with a flat look. “Thanks for your help, Romus,” he says mildly. “I think you better get going.”

“Alright, alright.” Burgin holds up his hands defensively before starting the car. “Don’t be a stranger, Eddie,” he says over the noise of the motor, giving Eddie one last smile.

“Same goes for you.” Eddie claps a hand on Burgin’s shoulder, then steps away from the window. “Call if you need help with that kitchen of yours, we’re getting real good with painting and installing faucets.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m countin’ on it.” Eddie raises his hand in a wave. “Take care, Burgie.”

Burgin salutes haphazardly. “Aye, aye, sir.” He fiddles with the radio for a second. Having found a station to his liking, he puts the car into drive. Eddie watches the fading red tail lights until they turn the corner and disappear.

The house is dark and silent when he heads back inside, safe for the moonlight coming through the windows, illuminating the unpacked boxes in the hallways and the living room. Following his intuition, Eddie grabs two of the fleece blankets off the couch and steps out onto the porch.

He hums in appreciation. “Well, looks like you’re useful after all,” he says, regarding the assembled table and chairs with an appraising look. “I suppose I can keep you around.”

Andy sits up in his chair so he can turn around. Without light coming from inside the house it’s too dark to make out any details of his expression but he picks up Eddie’s dry tone of voice when he says, “I don’t want to alarm you, but you’ve kind of crossed a point of no return when you let me put a ring on your finger.”

“Oh right,” Eddie says as he pulls the second chair over next to Andy’s, “that happened. I guess some past decisions can really pay off later in life.” He drops one of the blankets on the chair he’s claiming for himself, the other he drops into Andy’s lap.

Instead of taking the blanket, Andy reaches for his shirt and gives it a gentle tug. Eddie readily leans down for a quick kiss, smiling against Andy’s lips.

“Let’s hope buying a house together is another decision that pays off,” Eddie says once he’s upright again. 

Andy frowns. “Are you worried it won’t?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Not particularly. Just hoping. Hey,” he touches Andy’s cheek when he doesn’t look fully convinced, “I mean it. I’m sure about this.” The thing is, he really is. There aren’t a lot of things in life he feels truly certain about, he doesn’t think he has to, but this – them – is one of those things.

His certainty must carry in his words and voice because the frown lines on Andy’s forehead disappear and Andy leans back against. Eddie takes this as his cue to settle down as well. They recline their chairs until they’re almost horizontal and cover themselves with the blankets from the waist down. Eddie places his arms on the armrests, allowing his body to relax into the soft seat cushion.  

In the moments of perfect tranquility, Eddie lets his mind drift unhurriedly. There are some things left to do around the house beyond simply moving in, although he doubts that will ever change. Eddie’s father always said that a house is a permanently unfinished project for as long as you want to call it home. Fixing the stuck window in the upstairs bedroom and figuring out what to do with the attic will be just the beginning.

He only notices that he’s been tapping his fingers against the armrest in a lazy beat when Andy takes his hand and laces their fingers together. He gives Andy’s hand a quick squeeze, adjusts his arm so the position is more comfortable.

Andy sighs contentedly. “This really is a place where I can imagine getting old in peace.”

Eddie huffs. “You’re plenty old already.”

With his free hand, Andy makes a gesture of dismissal. “I’m not even forty.”

“Yet,” remarks Eddie, unfazed. “You’re closer to forty than to twenty.”

“Yeah, well, so are you.” Andy turns his head to look at him. “What are you trying to say?” he asks, amused.

Eddie considers for a moment, then shrugs. “Nothing, really.” He keeps his gaze pointed skywards. It doesn’t take much to find the North Star and let his eyes wander from there.

Sometimes the things they don’t say seem so much bigger than those they do. There will always be things that he can’t quite put into words. Articulation is a matter of two layers. Words and meanings, words and feelings, words and an entire world beyond them. There’s a limit to how well the space between them can be bridged and from time to time words fall frustratingly short of serving their purpose, though not for lack of trying.

He doesn’t say, We’ve been growing older together for a while now. He might try to later, when the act of speaking doesn’t feel like reaching for the stars and knowing he’ll never reach them.

What he does is raising their intertwined hands, pressing gentle kisses to Andy’s knuckles.

From where he’s lying it looks as if their hands are touching the Big Dipper.

Maybe that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> i’m happy if someone reads this and thinks ‘nice.’ if u wanna go beyond that: loved and accepted currencies are comments, kudos, yelling/saying anything via [tumblr](http://ingoldenlight.tumblr.com), and sending good vibes into the void; i appreciate and treasure everything; do what u feel comfortable with but definitely thanks for reading! 
> 
> section titles are the bright star catalogue indexes of several stars: from the aries and leo constellations (hamal; regulus) and the big dipper (megrez, phecda, merak, mizar, alkaid, dubhe, alioth, alcor) which can be used to find polaris (north star), sorted by apparent magnitude (i.e. brightness) and if that was inconclusive by distance in light years (farther to closer). is this the most unnecessarily nerdiest thing i’ve ever done? possible 
> 
> title from george mallory's letter to his wife ruth during the everest reconnaissance expedition 1921, i'm sure you've seen it floating around: "goodnight and great love to you. we see the same stars." source: Wade, Davis. _Into The Silence: The Great War, Mallory and the Conquest of the Everest._ Vintage, 2012, p. 284.


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